Ganymede Rising
by Krahae
Summary: A slightly different take on indy!Harry. A summer vacation leads Harry to do some exploring someplace not so far afield. Sixteen, bored, and faced with the newest threat to his sanity - the cute waitress. Music and a little mayhem. Post 5th, slight AU.


Disclaimer: I do not own characters from Harry Potter, or Dark Horse Comics. Alex is mine. The music is mine.

_**Ganymede Rising**_

(∞)

"_Certainly the game is rigged. Don't let that stop you; if you don't bet you can't win."_

_~Lazarus Long, Time Enough for Love_

(∞)

"Just go away and in two hours we'll meet by the hotel."

Harry stared at the back of his uncle's head as the man walked off, not quite sure if he heard him correctly. Then again... who was he to disregard such an ideal situation?

It was the beginning of summer vacation, and not a week earlier he got some news that surprised him out of his melancholy almost wholly. It had been some few summers before he'd started Hogwarts that the Dursleys last took a vacation, but this year they were breaking that long drought. Of course, with Harry now actively doing magic and in school for such and too old to be sent off to old Mrs. Figg, it meant he was carted along with the lot as well.

He had figured it was worry that he'd set fire to the old house, which in a way was a justified concern. After the Order had their silly posturing fit with his relatives, the air had been cleared once they returned home. Harry made sure the Dursleys had no illusions on his opinion of them, and they reinforced unnecessarily their lack of regard for him. Oddly, that talk had been prelude to one of the quietest summers he'd known.

Fred and George were party to that in a way, with an incidental note they slipped him on the train. It turned out that the twins Weasley had set up a vault for him, for the profits that they felt obligated to share with him. More than that, the information he could access his vaults by Post Owl had changed his life in very positive ways.

One constant about Vernon and Petunia that never changed was greed. It was evident in his uncle's dealings with work, and it went far beyond the clean ambition to do well at his job. Station and prosperity were the man's ultimate goals, and now that Harry had access to his vaults he could appeal to the man's basest vice – money.

Agreements were made, compromises reached and Harry found himself with a lot of free time, and a 'family' that had better things to do suddenly than bother him for every little chore or task. Perhaps it was the easy way out, but he'd had more than a decade of the hard way, and frankly Harry felt he had enough on his plate without a trio of horrid relations making his life harder.

It seemed the three Dursleys were in agreement. That they brought him along for the vacation could speak of their gratitude he knew, but honestly he expected it was more paranoia than regard for him. And so Harry found himself standing outside the City of Westminster hotel they had rented rooms at for the week, bemused and at a loss for what to do with himself.

He had a fairly full wallet – money was simple to change he found – but there hadn't been a chance for him to shed the cast-offs he wore yet. This was a situation he was acutely aware of, pausing before a large bank of windows which offered him a reflection of Harry Potter.

He'd gained some height from the year before, and where he had been simply rail-thin and awkward before, now he seemed to wear it better. The high bones in his face complemented his height, and on someone who wasn't as thin would seem off. Unchanged was his mop of unruly hair, raven-black and just long enough to drape around his scar. Below that rested his new glasses, a blessing from Pomfrey before the end of last year. They were thinner and silver of frame, and had a few charms to keep them from suffering as much as his last pair. As always, behind them peered out his curse-green eyes, hooded in the harsh sun by his brows.

Harry wasn't used to seeing himself in a full mirror, and what he saw surprised him. Despite the ill-fitting clothes, he looked... good. There was a hint of the melancholy he felt in his eyes – there wasn't much to be done there. His sleep was troubled from the loss of his godfather, but he wasn't going to let it destroy him.

Perhaps he wasn't dealing with it, just putting the pain aside, but he didn't think so. As much as he cared for Sirius, the man was an unknown almost all his life. Harry knew well enough the difference between loving someone, and loving the idea of them, and sad as the realization made him, he was more fond of what Sirius stood for. He was sure that given time he could come to think of the man as true family, but they just didn't have the time.

Setting aside those musings Harry took in the immediate problem, that of his ratty wardrobe. Normally he'd not care one whit, but if he were to stay in the neighborhood that the Dursleys picked out for the length of the vacation in those clothes, he may find himself arrested or cited for vagrancy. He cast about for some solution to the problem, but the immediate area they were staying in looked to be mostly a hotel row, lacking the usual shops Harry would expect in a busy area.

Figuring there was nothing to be done there, he picked a direction and walked, reasoning there was a chance something would turn up if he walked far enough. It was half an hour later when the feel of the area changed. Shops were becoming more regular, if eclectic. This part of town seemed more modern than the one he'd just been in, and with a little looking around he discovered the name of the inner-city district to be Camden. All in all, he liked it, and the few passerby he noted were in fashions that would almost include his own ragamuffin styling. Regardless he kept an eye open for a clothing shop, hoping maybe to get at least one change of clothes so he'd not feel so out of place back where the hotel was.

So caught up in his furtive spying, the young man literally ran into an old woman, knocking her groceries to the ground. "Oh, Mer-er. Here let me hel-"

Shrieking at him like a banshee, the woman started swinging blindly with an old umbrella. "Get back! Get back, you'll get nothing off me, urchin! Bobbies! Help!"

Harry stood slack-jawed for a half beat before his feet started trying to save his ass. Half out of embarrassment, half out of sheer blind panic he stumbled into a pub's alcove that was a block away. Leaning back against the brick blind the entryway offered, he listened behind him for the sound of pursuit, but only heard the soft murmur of voices and the occasional laugh from inside the place.

"Old woman was acting like it was the end of the world," he muttered, catching his breath and relaxing when it was clear that he'd gotten free of any trouble. He loosed a sigh of relief, looking up to the nameplate of the pub and blinking for a count of five before breaking out in a wide grin. "Well, may as well take a look."

On the sign hanging above the alcove, the pub's sign proudly proclaimed it's name as the "World's End".

The door closed quietly behind him, cutting off the noise of people from the street and Ol' Mad Hettie's ears. With a knowing grin the old woman patted her pocket, and shouldered her parasol. Straitening from her crooked posture, she strode down the lane with a satisfied, if somewhat wry curve to her lips. "That should liven things up a mite."

(∞)

"_The memory of things gone is important to a jazz musician. Things like old folks singing in the moonlight in the back yard on a hot night or something said long ago."_

_~Louis Armstrong_

(∞)

Harry's experience with public houses, pubs and the like was limited, extending only up till that point to Hogsmeade and it's two establishments. The World's End was on a completely different level. The Three Broomsticks was comfortable if a bit rustic, and the Hog's Head felt like a shady barn with tables, but this place.... Looking around from the doorway where he'd stopped, Harry took in the cozy booths, the main floor, and the upper level balconies. He also took in the people, most being of a subdued but happy cast in the early afternoon.

Bright and airy, the pub felt more alive than either of the other places he knew. Realizing he was blocking the entryway, the young wizard crossed the floor quickly, taking in the art and décor with an open interest.

It was as he turned back to the main floor after reaching the far side that he noticed a stone portal, out of place and stark against the bright wood and lights of the pub. Over the arch of it in pale letters read "The Underworld". Unbidden, thoughts of Sirius and the Ministry swept over him, and before he had really registered his own movements, Harry was walking through the doorway and down the stairs.

The bottom landing was a noisy place, the thumping of loud music and the murmur of voices much louder than above, easily taking over his senses. Whatever Harry had expected of a place with the name Underworld, this wasn't it. Pushing open the double doors, he was greeted with a dim hall surrounding a stage, with tables and low walls running around the room making cozy booths where there was room. Lights swept around, picking out the stage at points, people on the dance floor at others in random arcs. Off to the far left the room continued, larger spaces opening into less crowded but still populated rooms. To the far right he saw the club's bar, busy like a beehive with people coming and going.

People filled the place to the walls, writhing or dancing on the floor, sitting in those booths, or just lazing about at either the bar or on their to or from unknown places. In all his life, Harry had never seen so many people in one place, not even the Great Hall. It felt like every person on earth were here, packed into this alternately dark and brilliantly lit room. Harry realized, once he had recollected his wits, that it was proof that he had barely lived that he reacted to something in mundane, muggle London so strongly.

Magic was wonderful and amazing – but what did it do for him, really? Watching the faces around him, Harry had to wonder. These people didn't have magic, and they must live full lives – or at least lives that had enough room in them for something like this place.

Harry stumbled and managed to find a table, off to the side of the stage by some chance of timing and luck. He pointedly ignored the baleful looks he got, being alone and taking up a whole small booth, more interested in seeing what there was to see. The stage was the center of this place, the Underworld, and he planned to at least understand a little of this world before his time was up and he had to return to the Dursleys.

"What'll you have?" The sudden question pulled him out of his daze, and Harry stared over at a girl probably not much older than him and blinked owlishly at her.

"What?"

Her lips quirked, and for a moment she scanned around the row of booths to her left, along the wall. Then she sat down across from him, pulling out one of the menu's on the table. "I asked, what will you have? Do you want some food, or were you just here for the music?"

Harry colored slightly, mentally berating himself for being so simple. "Oh, right um. Well, what do you-"

"Menu." The plastic coated listing was thrust into his hand, cutting off his inane query. The girl heaved a sigh and gave him a small wave, rising and making her way quickly away, "I'll come back in a tick, just look over and find something you fancy."

Mouth still working silently, Harry swore and snapped the menu open. Hiding his face he let his blush run rampant, embarrassment clear on his features. It wasn't because of the girl, or the place, reasonable reasons he figured. No, his own lack of any kind of social adeptness was cause enough. Once more he cursed Dumbledore, the Dursleys and Voldemort for putting him in such a woefully sheltered place, where just a waitress could make him feel like an utter pariah.

Stifling his angst, Harry scanned the menu quickly, not wanting to further inconvenience the girl who was his server for his exploring. It didn't hurt he was actually somewhat hungry. Deciding on some simple pub food, a serving of hot pot and a cottage pie, he sat the menu down to watch the room again.

There was no band on the stage at the moment, but there was a small instrument setup, as if waiting for the players to come forward. A simple drum set, compared to the complicated apparatus that he'd seen in one of Dudley's videos, and a single guitar rested on a high chair in the dim light. Harry continued to stare, his mind playing over what little he knew of music when a solid thunk pulled his attention back to his table.

"'Lo," the serving girl greeted him again, a speculative look on her face as he turned away from the stage, seeing the source of the noise – a thick-walled glass mug of ice water. "Anything catch your eye?"

Harry thought to just relay his order, but decided to indulge his curiosity first, "So, is there a band due tonight?"

The girl paled a bit, and looked at the stage with unblinking eyes. Harry took that moment to actually look at her, and his brow rose slightly. He'd placed her age near his earlier, but that was only from a cursory glance, but now with some scrutiny... he had to say she was maybe three years his senior at the most. The lines of her face were slim and fine, lacking the softness most early teens still had. She wore her short black hair up in a tight tie at the back of her head, showing off an attractive curve of neck and collar. The pub's uniform was a simple collared shirt, but thanks to her frame it looked good, rather than too bland. Her eyes were the same tone as the shirt, a deep smoky gray, but what drew his eye was the scar. It ran from cheek to cheek, crossing high on the bridge of her nose. Before he could take in more of her face, Harry noted her posture shift.

He quickly diverted his attention when she turned her gaze back to him, peering from the corner of her eye. "There will be some live music later. So, you ordering...?" She let the question hang, her hand going to her hip in a clear signal that he should get on with it. Clearing his throat he did so, which seemed almost to surprise her.

Nodding and repeating his request, she turned and made a quick retreat to what he had to assume was the kitchens, tucked behind the bar. Breathing a sigh of relief for not getting caught out doing the very thing he hated people doing to him – staring at scars – Harry sipped his water and let the din of noise swell over him and dull his thoughts.

It was perhaps five minutes when she returned, placing his meal on the table without a word and sloshing a refill into his iced water where it sat from her pitcher. Harry, rather taken with the smells of familiar food and suddenly recalling the abysmal portions that were his usual summer fare, didn't hesitate to dig in.

He was far into his food when the first strands of static pealed out of the speakers around the room. Harry blinked up, and looked around at the loud noise, revising his opinions on the place. He'd assumed the bands were a secondary function, but with a sound system that strong, he would likely be leaving soon or risk a headache.

Those thoughts fled when he saw a familiar, slight figure take the stage, beside a taller, slouching man that looked more like an accountant than a musician. The background noise died down as his waitress took the stage, adjusting the microphone to her smaller height.

"I'm not big on introductions. I'm Alex and this is Ken, and thanks to it being Tuesday, you get us instead of a real band," a few laughs and whistles called out from the floor, and Harry watched the girl who'd served him earlier laugh. "Thanks. We don't have a name, so just enjoy."

Without further to say, she sat and pulled the guitar strap around her shoulder, settling it with practiced ease. Harry sat his fork down, intrigued by the possibility that the music may be something he'd like. In truth he had so little exposure to any kind of music that it was a fair bet either way. He was also interested in the girl, having decided to try and strike up a real conversation with her, if she came back by his table. Realizing that was likely impossible with her as the night's entertainment, he wanted to at least see what kind of music she could play, to warrant a public performance in this kind of place.

Ken took a few minutes to settle the drum set to his liking, as Alex tested her guitar. It was a low-noted model, something Harry vaguely assumed was a bass, but this had too many strings. She took some time to arrange a pedal setup, then started a medium tempo, a set of eight notes, the tone rising and falling each repeat of eight.

The drums picked up the beat from her, and she did something with the pedals, letting the beat she had set continue. The guitar had a growling, throaty sound that he found he liked. She added a rise-and-fall counterbeat to her earlier score, then leaned up to the microphone.

_I bought a new house,  
Didn't see the place,  
Moved in like a church mouse,  
Then I saw your face,_

Harry sat back and blinked. He'd heard some of the contemporary wizarding singers, but this was rough and hardly the lyrical experience he'd expected. The music was heavy and hardly all that complicated either with it's only two instruments, but it had a persistent beat that had his foot tapping despite him.

Alex had a nice enough voice, but she wasn't singing so much as using her voice as another instrument, the words jabbing out at the beat along with her guitar counter. She and Ken had talent, and the fact that only the two instruments were carrying the song said it clearly. Harry decided it wasn't something he was used to, but that it could grow on him easy enough.

_You took it easy,  
So I got a drink,  
Asked why you came here  
No idea what to think._

_You said "It's my home,  
__At least till last year,  
"Never been too keen to roam,  
I said, lets stay here,_

_Maybe it's some danger,  
Since I don't know you,  
Momma said I'd love a stranger,  
Gotta say, think I do,_

_Got to say it's strange living with a ghost,  
And I'm sleeping in your bed,  
But I can't say much, you're the nicest boy I know,  
Something must be wrong with my head._

Harry stifled a chuckle at the mental image the chorus painted in his mind, imagining the girl Alex moving into a house haunted by old Nick the Gryffindor ghost, and then falling for the ancient spirit. He found himself warming to the song quickly and smiled, his nearly-finished food forgotten.

_People say I'm crazy,  
Can't say they're wrong,  
Being with you isn't easy,  
But we get along,_

_Momma said I'd be alone,  
I would never guess,  
Seeing me now, had she known,  
Living my lovely mess,_

_I'll never get used,  
To living with this,  
At seeing you so confused.  
When I ask for a kiss, _

_Maybe it's some danger  
Since I don't know you,  
Momma said I'd love a stranger,  
Gotta say, think I do,_

_Got to say it's strange living with a ghost,  
And I'm sleeping in your bed,  
But I can't say much, you're the nicest boy I know,  
Something must be wrong with my head..._

The song continued on, but he barely heard the words, watching the players instead, and the riot on the dance floor that seemed to answer their efforts. Ken was keen and methodical, but he had a focus to him that was nearly scary to Harry, his strikes at the drums and cymbals precise and vicious. In counter to him, Alex seemed to caress her guitar, but never smiled as she sang.

Oh, she was intense enough. By the end of the song, which was by no means a very loud piece, she was fairly screaming into the microphone, voice pealing over the speakers and Harry had to believe, all the way back to the hotel.

That thought had his heart stall, remembering suddenly Vernon's words. "Oh damnit!" Swearing, Harry pulled out a wad of money and tossed it onto the table, rising and barking his thighs on the low edge of the thing. Luck didn't frown on him, and nothing tumbled to the ground this time, but he was more wary making his way out of the room, preferring not to tempt fate.

Once clear of the building by way of the main door that opened to the street, Harry oriented himself and sprinted, uncaring of how people saw him at that point. He was going to be late getting back to the Durleys, and that would be a bad start to his vacation for sure.

(∞)

"_Life will not break your heart. It'll crush it."_

_~ Henry Rollins_

(∞)

Harry woke and grumbled, rubbing at his eyes and getting a good whiff of himself from yesterday's adventure and lack of shower. He'd gotten back too late as he figured, and been forbade to run the shower on the empty threat that it'd wake someone, as if Vernon's screaming hadn't done so already.

Regardless he slept, tired from the previous day's trip and the sprint home. Waking to the smell of stale smoke from the Underworld and his own sweat was not ideal, so he stumbled into the shower, unheeding of the rest of the rental unit.

Towel wrapped around himself, Harry emerged later and only then realized he was alone in the hotel room. Scanning the room and dripping on the carpet, he finally saw the note, half hidden by the in-room coffee maker.

Short and without embellishment, it said that the Dursleys were off to see some local relations and that he was to fend for himself, with a strong suggestion to get out while they were away.

Needing no further urging, Harry planned his day, dressing in a fresh change of clothes and collecting his things for the trip out.

The day's efforts weren't without fruit, unlike the previous day. Harry found the nearby shopping district and promptly acquired a few decent changes of clothes, leaving Dudley's cast-offs in a trash bin. Not sure what else to spend his day on, Harry found himself wandering the familiar route to Camden and it's refreshing atmosphere. Feeling more relaxed in jeans and a tee under a hooded jacket, he wandered and took in the sights, finding himself haunting more than one music store.

It wasn't difficult to find them, as the area around World's End where he seemed to have gravitated was rife with the small shops, each seemingly devoted to one kind of music or another. Harry learned that the area was a hot-spot for rising bands, and that the 'Indy scene' as it was called, was going strong there. Independent bands, meaning those without major labels or backing, often found themselves starting out or coming to this area to get their first exposure to large public venues.

From a shopkeeper Harry learned that the Underworld was the jump-point for many bands, and that to get a regular showing there was practically unheard of. Still, the major shows played from Thursday through the weekend, and his inquiry about the interesting duo of Alex and Ken the night before came up dry.

Harry managed to locate a small gathering of magical shops, three inhabiting a single building, and paid a small fee to use their Owl Post. Figuring it would be too hard to slip away to Diagon and frankly unwilling to bother, he sent a short note to the twins, asking for them to send him a few convenience items. Promising to pay them whatever it set them back, Harry went back to muggle Camden, seeing nothing interesting in the nook bookstore or curiosity shop.

He finally gave in to his impulses and picked up a small music player, and a set of almost comically large if very good quality headphones. His wallet was significantly thinner, but the music he had while wandering more than made up for it.

Gravity drew him again to the pub, and he took it in during daylight, grinning at the stark red brick and woodwork. Sighting the main entryway to the Underworld he shrugged and cut across traffic and took the lowered stair to the basement club.

During the day the Underworld was nearly vacant, with few people evident and fewer conversations. Feeling more than a little out of place, Harry sat at the same table as last time, looking over the slightly lighter lunch fare, slipping his headphones down around his neck.

"Specials today are... oh. It's you again," Harry glanced up and crooked a half grin at Alex as she regarded him with a tilted head and curious expression. "Well, I'm glad to see you have other clothes."

Harry laughed quietly, shaking his head, "Yeah, I wasn't really expecting to... go out," waving vaguely he let the reply trail off, shrugging.

Alex seemed to accept that without further question, turning her expression back to it's default blank that Harry was beginning to think of as her 'waitress face'. "So, want to hear the specials or are you finding anything you fancy yet?"

Biting his tongue, Harry broke eye contact and used the menu to keep himself from showing the heat in his face. "I'll just have the soup. What kinds of drinks do you have besides ice water?"

She looked him over once with a critical eye, and Harry swallowed. "I'll bring you something. Mind if I join you?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

Smirking at his discomfort, she turned and scratched something on the pad she pulled from a pocket. Alex grinned over her shoulder as she walked off, the first time off the stage he'd seen her break the stony cast she seemed to always wear. "I get lunch in a few, thought'd you'd like some company."

She was right – he would really like some company. He missed the comfortable press of people in the Great Hall, the familiar din of his friends and their living. He of course couldn't say as much, and scraping up a reply he looked up only to see her quickly turning a corner and was off, and Harry was left to wonder what he was playing at. Selecting a song from the list on his player, he slipped the headphones back up and let his eyes unfocus, drifting on memories of the past. Images of the last few years playing across his mind's eye, the weight of his life settling back down around him like heavy fog.

Thoughts of Hogwarts invariably lead ultimately to the DA, Dumbledore and the prophecy. With a cold gravity, the reality of Voldemort awakened in his gut and Harry winced, realizing he'd bought into the idea of a vacation almost as blindly as his relatives. An escape, even one with them it seemed, was enough for him to frantically bury the dire weight of the last few year's worth of memories under a veneer of frivolous sightseeing.

A tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts, and wrenching the headset down he upset his glasses, which he fumbled and caught. "Whoa there, didn't mean to give you a scare. You just looked a bit down." Offering a half grin, Alex lifted the tray with his soup and what he had to imagine was her own lunch slightly, "But hey, food yeah?"

She was standing just out of reach, having drawn back at the violence of his startled reaction. Harry blinked and looked at his hands a moment, before trying to speak. Each time he opened his mouth, the words he thought of would all jumble together. "I'm sorry, I'm a wizard and it's probably really stupid of me to be in a public place like this. There's a crazy guy out there with a lot of equally crazy and homicidal flunkies that wouldn't even consider you a human being that are likely to show up and start blowing things up. Oh, and I'm not really sure why I'm even here," all slammed together in his throat, but what came out was simpler. "Sorry, this was a mistake."

Harry dropped the cost of lunch on the table and fled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket and pulling the hood up once he was outside. It was stupid of him to forget that life didn't just go on for him. Unlike his classmates, he was locked into a loop, a holding pattern until either he or Voldemort died.

Outlook bleak, Harry turned his feet toward the way that lead to the hotel, mind cast to his notebooks and the hastily copied notes there, on what he would be studying with the DA come fall.

Alex watched for a full minute, the space the young man had been before sitting down silently, putting the other portions in the space across from her mechanically. Taking up her glass, a lurid green drink that suggested a straw with it's umbrella, she threw back a good measure before staring out at the stage, lips pursed and a flat depthlessness to her eyes.

Taking out a notebook she scratched out her thoughts, one hand idly moving food with practiced disinterest while the other messily scribed lyric on paper.

(∞)

"_Live all you can; it's a mistake not to. It doesn't so much matter what you do in particular, so long as you have your life. If you haven't had that what have you had?"_

_~Henry James _

(∞)

It took three days for Harry to come to grips with himself. In a number of ways, he was beginning to understand the disrespect Snape had for Gryffindors. There was something to be said for a house that extols bravery and courage over all else, but that doesn't teach when it's needed, proper, or the correct time for it. Harry wondered if there were other Gryffindors like himself that were also cowards.

His thoughts those three days revolved not around the DA, the war, or Voldemort as he'd planned, but around The Underworld, himself, and the memory of a fleeting smile. He was tired of feeling like his life wasn't his, tired of the weight of it pressing down on him from so many angles. That was why he was so happy to just... wander. To find something new and unfamiliar, like the pub and the hints of normal life it offered. Done sitting in the hotel stewing in his own head, Harry grabbed his jacket and headphones, packed up a messenger bag he'd picked up with his notebook and a Defense text he'd smuggled out of the house, and started walking.

Much like the first time he'd gone wandering, he ended up somewhere random. Today he found a fountain, large and round and ringed with a low bench of stone that people seemed to gravitate to. From the fountain out at least a block was nothing at all – the area was paved with huge flagstones and left as a park of sorts. All around the plaza containing the spectacle were pigeons and people, pushing goods carts, shopping at them, sitting or walking around.

Tilting his face up to the sun and the spray from the fountain, Harry found it inside himself to smile and cut a line to the basin and it's bench, intending on sitting there and running his hands through the cold water. Pulling down his headphones, Harry let the noise of the square fill him, his hands glistening with cool water as he leaned back against the cold stone of the fountain. "Mind if I sit here?"

Harry glanced up, the sun setting spiraling shapes into his vision and painting a halo behind the head of the person standing there. "Sure," he offered, not bothering to wonder why they'd pick a spot beside him rather than any number of other places about the fountain.

"It's a nice day. Good day to think."

The woman smiled, her face visible now that the sun wasn't blinding him. Harry started at seeing her black-painted lips and oddly decorated eyes. "Er. Yeah, suppose so."

Stretching out arms that were tucked into a heavy, furry and ratty looking coat, she grinned and leaned back against the fountain, laying down across the lip. Trailing her arm, coat and all through the water she closed her eyes. Harry sat below her, feeling very self conscious but recalling his earlier thoughts briefly. He stilled and filled the silence, "I guess lots of people come here to think."

"Oh, sure they do. It's the perfect place," she quipped, gesturing up toward the sun overhead with a damp hand. Water flicked up and set a few brief stars in the blue there. "There's noise, and people, so you can think about talking. There's pigeons and feed, so you can think about life, there's water so you can think about change."

Harry crooked his lips, not sure of her logic on the why but having spent a year around Luna, being able to see the vague truths in her words regardless. "Yeah. It's also... well you're in the middle of a huge city. Yet, right here, there's enough space for just you. You're out, in the city, but not drowning in it."

"In a way this is one of the city's hearts," she said quietly, gathering up some water in her hand and throwing it at a nearby, curious pigeon. The disgruntled bird just shook itself and glared with beady black eyes at her. "So, what did you come to think about?"

If he was taken off guard by her suddenly direct question, Harry didn't show it. "Oh, I figure what a lot of people come here for. I was thinking about a girl."

"Ooh. Yeah I can see that being a popular topic. So, what thoughts have you managed to think?"

Harry considered that a moment, before leaning back against the fountain again, not caring that his head was close to the strange girl above him. "I'm not sure. I think I messed up pretty bad the last time I saw her."

Above him there was a buzz of the strange girl humming. "That gets complicated," she murmured, in a half sing-song voice. "I mean, saying sorry to a complete stranger is a lot different than say... a jaded lover." Blushing, Harry turned his attention to the pigeons. "There's always saying you're sorry. Now, _how_ you say you're sorry, that may depend on what she is to you."

Sighing, Harry nodded, his eyes distant. "I guess that's the hard part. I don't really know her."

"Have to wonder why it's all worth so much thinking then," the girl quipped in reply.

"Been wondering the same thing myself," the young man groused, digging a small pebble of mortar out of the paving and regarding it intently. Harry wondered at his ease in speaking with the girl, who for all intents and purposes was a total stranger, but didn't let it still him. It felt comforting. Knowing this person would listen, but had no preconceptions. He was no different than Adam to her, and that realization also clicked a piece of the puzzle of Alex into place. "In a way, I guess it's because I'm no one to her."

He heard the stranger shifting above him, and tilted his head back. Dark eyes regarded him, "That's an odd reason. If you're no one, why would she care?"

"Maybe she doesn't," Harry conceded, but a ghost of a smile crossed his face. "But it's, well," Gathering his thoughts, he decided to go out on a limb, somewhat. "Since I was little, people that knew me were always talking, or at least knew about something that happened, that made me famous for some reason. I didn't even do anything... it was all just a weird string of coincidences as far as I'm concerned. The idea she doesn't know me, doesn't have any of those ideas to make me anything but who I am... I guess it's comforting."

Shrugging, the girl went back to regarding the sky. "Fame is weird that way. People need their heroes, whether the hero wants to be or not." Harry's eyes narrowed, wondering how much this stranger really knew when she continued, "It's the same with villains. If people didn't have those ideas for their moral compass, they'd have no way to guide themselves."

Harry sent the pebble of mortar in his hand skipping across the paving stones, scattering birds as it clattered by. For the moment, he let his fears subside. "Never thought of it like that."

"Well, this is a good place to start," she said quietly. Harry only nodded in reply. "Do you think it'd be enough though? Why apologize, mistake or not, if you don't think you matter?"

"Never said I didn't matter, just that I'm no one special," Harry corrected, grinning impishly. "I like her. She's complicated. There are layers there that make me want to sit and talk with her, understand them. I guess I was just afraid of the things behind me catching up. That's why I need to apologize."

"Part of what makes the past what it is, is that we leave it behind us. If it can catch up, that's something different." Harry nodded at the stranger's words, admitting the point. "Maybe you just need to move faster toward the future?"

Harry growled out a negative. "I hate running away."

"Moving forward faster isn't running away from what's behind you," she corrected him. "It's all in your perspective."

"Forward huh?" Chewing on his lip, Harry nodded. "I think I like that. Now on to figuring out how to say I'm sorry," he muttered, picking at the mortar again and eyeing a pigeon that was getting too close to his shoe.

"You're not dead yet, and neither is she, so there's still time for you to figure it out. Just don't wait too long, it'll only be harder."

He chuckled a moment at the bluntness of her words, but nodded regardless. There was truth there. "I guess. I'm just not sure if she'd hear it. I don't really know her. All I know is she sings nice, doesn't smile much, and has..." Harry went quiet, as something in his head clicked. The look around Alex's eyes, that kind of tense wariness that he'd seen so often in the mirror. "She has haunted eyes. There's a lot there, it's part of what draws me in."

"Seen too much, maybe?"

Harry shrugged, remembering the song she'd sang that night. "Maybe. Maybe I'm putting too much of myself in her, hoping."

"Mmm." Another buzz of humming, this time ending with a hand coming down and taking his shoulder a moment. "People aren't ever as different as we think. There's the same stuff making up you as her. It's just been stirred different."

With a laugh, Harry remembered the dangers of stirring things wrong, from Potions class. If only she knew how big those explosions could be, from something so inane. "Maybe," considering the hand on his shoulder with it's heavy silver rings, Harry squinted up at the smiling face turned his way. "What about you? What are you here to think about?"

"Just today. I get out every now and then, get to really be alive and enjoy it. Oh, and I'm meeting some people here. It's a good day to be around people."

"Yeah," turning back toward the square, Harry realized it was getting on in the day, closing in toward noon. "I think I should be going."

Standing, he was surprised when the girl held out one of her heavy-ringed hands to him. "It was nice to see you again."

"We've met before?"

"Not really."

Laughing, Harry shook his head and took her hand, surprised at how small it seemed in his own. "Well then, it was a pleasure to see you again. My name's Harry, in case you've forgotten."

She tilted her head, eyes crinkling in a grin, "Don't worry, we'll meet again I'm sure, and I'll remember. I'm Deedee, by the way."

"Have a good day, Deedee. I hope seeing your people goes well," he offered, turning and setting off for the Underworld. Harry waved as he oriented and started off at a speedy clip.

Deedee nodded, as from around the fountain an old woman trundled and sat with a wheeze and grumble beside her. "Hi Hettie," the pale woman chirped by way of greeting. "You did good."

"Right blockhead that one is," the old lady snorted, pulling some crusty bread from her bag and handing half to the young girl beside her. "No idea why this all matters in the least."

"Oh that's a lie and you know it," the girl laughed, her voice tinkling out over the square, as she tossed crumbs to the flocking birds. "It matters because it matters. There are thousands of ways a life can go, and all of them, ultimately, are right."

Hettie grunted. "Why meddle then?"

"Oh, that's easy. It's what we do." Deedee stretched, slender arms peeking out of the huge coat, a troubled look crossing her face. She sat the nearly finished loaf of bread to the side.

Laughing, the sound like old parchment crinkling, Hettie only nodded. Beside her the young girl stared out over the square, a pensive expression darkening her painted face. "It was a good day. Hettie?"

The old woman looked sharply at the young woman's words, all mirth suddenly gone from her face. "Yes dearie?"  
"Keep an eye on Alex, ok?"

Hettie sat quietly for a count of ten, before nodding. "Saw her last night, didn't you." It was more statement than question, but Deedee nodded anyway. She waited another few moments and sighed. "I see. Well, I suppose I can look in now and then."

Looking weary and worn suddenly, Deedee nodded faintly. "Meddle. It'll turn out alright I think from here." Hettie kept her eyes forward, as the girl beside her muttered a barely audible "Oh" and there was the sound of something falling into the fountain's pooled waters. Pigeons came to eat crumbs, scattered from worn hands that had seen a few too many years. With a sigh, Hettie turned and picked up her umbrella, making her way across the square.

Behind her, as she turned the corner onto one of the main streets, there was an outcry as someone found Deedee.

(∞)

"_Every time we start thinking we're the center of the universe, the universe turns around and says with a slightly distracted air, "I'm sorry. What'd you say your name was again?""_

_~Margaret Maron_

(∞)

It took Harry half an hour to find his way to Camden, and half that long to realize he had no idea what to say, once he got there.

Complicating an already somewhat odd situation, Harry was forced to think again about _why_ he wanted so badly to make things with Alex right. Sure, she was pretty, and if he was honest, the scar actually added to that, an exotic point to add to her already attractive face. She was clearly a complex person as well, as he had to admit, working at a place like the Underworld and being a musician were both rather new facets he'd not encountered in anyone before. Then there were the masks. Harry could never manage to dull his reactions, effectively wearing his heart on his sleeve, so finding someone who near his age could have such barriers made him wonder why, and more, what was under them.

Considering the things that attracted him to Alex, it was clear he had a taste for people with something exotic about them. Cho was a striking Asian beauty, a rarity in Britain, and more so in the wizarding world there. Ginny, though he hadn't pursued her, had her own allure, but there was the issue of Ron and his brothers. Fleur was another of his fleeting attractions, but even Harry had to admit she was out of his league.

In her way, Alex was the same, if for a very different reason. Since Harry had begun Hogwarts, his contact with the muggle world had grown less and less. Now with his fifth year done, Harry could barely remember with clarity his earlier schooling and the few friends he'd made then. In it's own way, the wizarding world had pushed him even further from the muggle world, but he hadn't precisely resisted that movement. He never went out around Surrey on his own, even though Dudley was less a problem than before. Harry knew that given the choice of going out and trying to mingle with the people in his neighborhood, and studying his class texts, he'd chose magic without hesitation.

That was, until a few days ago. Now he was seeing the muggle world with a new eye, having stumbled into not only a side of London he'd never really imagined but also meeting someone from it that seemed to embody that idea. To Harry, Alex felt like Camden, and he was quickly falling in love with the eclectic borough. What that meant about his attraction to Alex he preferred not to think about too hard.

Feeling he had a less tenuous grasp on why he was so out of sorts about the girl, Harry was left to figure out what to do about it. A simple apology should be enough, but...

"Hey Alex, I'm sorry about... no," sighing, Harry rubbed a hand over his face. "That's not good. I only know her name from when she was on stage. Maybe I'm overthinking this. All that happened was I walked out on lunch..." despite those words, he still felt like he'd done something wrong, and it simply wouldn't let him be.

Before he'd really made up his mind on how to handle the talk with Alex, Harry found himself taking the stairs down to the Underworld, recalling Deedee's words a moment to keep his focus. He just hoped that if he could manage to speak to her, that he'd manage to do more than mumble inanely.

All thoughts on what to say were pushed aside when he tried the door. "Eh?" Pulling on the handles again, the doors did little more than rattle. Then he noted the "Closed" sign, beside the listing for hours. Scrubbing a hand through his hair in irritation, Harry stepped back and swore. "Right, night club. Figures they'd be closed at half till noon."

Slipping his headset back in place, Harry slouched into World's End, intending on killing time there till that afternoon. He hoped in vain that Alex would be working there as well, but instead there was a college-aged man who took his order without really saying anything or making an impression. Which was just fine with Harry, who was finding himself more and more irritable as his anxiety in waiting grew.

There weren't many patrons in the pub this time of day, which was the only reason he noted the storm brewing. After the waiter passed his table a second time eyeing him intently as he did so, Harry watched him return to the bar, only to see him nod and gesture back to the floor to someone behind a wall. Sitting back in his booth, Harry's heart raced – Death Eaters? Order? Fingers tapping at the wand in it's new holster, compliments of the twins, Harry stood, only to be pressed back into his seat by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Have a seat," a deep voice sounded and if it wasn't for a plate of food and a glass of water coming down in front of him Harry would have been cursing the room into oblivion. Instead he looked up into a rather severe face carrying a rather arch brow and beard that though neatly trimmed, still managed to bristle. The face belonged to a man in an apron over a loosely buttoned dress shirt and slacks. "I think we need to have a little chat."

At a loss, Harry crooked a brow, "Er, who are you?"

The man snorted, taking a seat across from Harry without breaking eye contact. "At least you're not a stuffy jerk like William. My name is Brian. I run the pub and club below. I'm also Alex's warder."

Harry blinked and paled, the gears in his mind catching and grinding. "Oh."

"Oh indeed," Brian replied archly. Leaning forward, the man's amber eyes, too light for hazel and reminding him of Lupin's suddenly, drilled into his own. "I don't miss much. I don't miss repeat customers with _special talents_," he said the last two words with definite emphasis, but continued without a pause, giving Harry no time to question his meaning. "I don't miss my girl getting a little spring in her step before a break, then walking back with a frown and half a song already written. So," leaning back, Brian's presence lifted away from Harry, and he gulped air, startled that he'd been breathing so shallowly for a few moments. "Tell me about yourself."

"I..." Harry's mouth worked, and he realized suddenly there was absolutely nothing safe he could really say. If this man was Alex's warder, saying he was coming to apologize would imply he was interested in Alex – which was truth – but wasn't the start to a conversation he wanted to have yet. Then there was the taboo subjects of the Dursleys, magic, and even the lies his family told for his background, covering for his distant schooling. He wanted even less to be known as an aspiring criminal than a wizard, for obvious reasons. With a cold sense of dread, he realized there was nothing he could tell the man.

Brian tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Cat got your tongue? Listen," leaning forward again but thankfully without the air of threat he had before, the man's lined face seemed to soften. "I'm not here to threaten you... well, much. Alex is special to me. I want to know what you're doing, why she was upset, and who you are, since you insist on coming back. Considering the mood she's in, I think I'm owed that."

Nodding faintly, Harry's lips pursed in thought, as a man came by to murmur something to Brian, setting him to scowling again. "That bloody girl, picking the damnedest places..." Shaking his head a moment, Brian waved off the waiter who seemed happy to retreat. "Sorry. Bar business. Now, you were saying...?"

In truth Harry wasn't saying anything, but got the hint regardless. "My name's Harry. I... sir? You mentioned... _talents_... earlier. What did you mean?"

"Oh? Tell me Harry, how much has Fudge been bollixing up things in the last few years?"

At the mention of the Minister of Magic's name, Harry blanched if possible, paler. "Y-You know?"

Brian snorted, shoving the sandwich Harry had ordered at the boy irritably. "Eat, your mind is obviously addled. Yes I know. Hell's bells boy half of the country knows, at least those with some sense. You think it's normal for a dozen houses a week to suddenly catch fire and there be no reason? For people to take to randomly keeling over with the looks they have? Sorry boy, heart attacks aren't uncommon, but shock and terror aren't the expressions people usually have left on their faces from dying to suffocating chest pains, and the last I checked, they weren't catching. Oh and the frequency of those same people's houses going up in flames makes it a bit more obvious as well."

"But the Ministry..." Harry let his words trail off, taking a deep draw off his water to settle himself. Brian had a point, of course, and it wasn't one Harry denied. The Ministry's actions, dragging their feet for a year and denying everything he and Dumbledore had told them smacked of incompetence. It was no wonder the world abroad was getting suspicious. Still, that didn't really explain this man's knowledge. "How do you know so much?" He queried, intending at least to learn that before returning to the prickly topic of himself.

Brian seemed to study him quietly for a handful of heartbeats before shrugging. "I've known a few of your sort. Hard not to notice them, really. Then there were the journals kept by Ol' Jinney, who used to run this place.

"The first owner in memory to leave a name, happened to have been a witch," he explained, pointing with a strong hand toward a sign hanging on the far wall. It was an old bar sign, of a hag in a red cap, reading "Mother Red Cap, Public House". "Was back in the 1700's, Ol' Jinney couldn't manage to keep a man from the locals that would accept her talents it seemed. They kept wanting to turn her over to the Church, then collect the lands and pub for themselves."

Harry frowned, "That's horrible."

Shrugging, Brian continued as if he had no real opinion, "She got a reputation for being a black widow sometime or another, and ceded the place to her daughter. The original place was torn down and rebuilt with the bricks and stones of the former, which is when it came under more stable management. Through it all her journals survived, passed from owner to owner. Sort of an owner's manual for running a pub in Camden, I think of them."

"I wonder how many other places or people pass that kind of information along so... easily," Harry wondered out loud, earning him a loud guffaw from the man across from him.

Brian wiped at tearing eyes a moment, "Ah, youth. You know the best way to make sure something becomes common knowledge, right?"

Groaning, Harry let his head fall into his hands, the answer obvious. "Make it a secret."

"Precisely. Now," the barkeep leaned back, the mirth seeming to fall off him like shed water from a duck's back. "Lets continue our earlier conversation, shall we?"

"Right," Harry commiserated. "My name is Harry Potter, I go to Hogwarts – school for wizards up in Aberdeen I think – and am sixteen this year."

Brian's lip quirked a bit. "Better. Now, know I have no opinions either way of your sort. Don't care a whit. But I will know if you go mucking up with Alex's head or heart, understood?"

Harry sputtered, "I don't have any-"

"Stop talking before you say something stupid, Harry," Brian chided, and Harry's mouth shut with a snap. "You like her, or you'd not be trying to get into the Under so early, with a look of a man going to a firing squad. Or sitting in my bar, glaring about at everyone not Alex in the uniform."

"I can't believe I'm that obvious," Harry groaned, getting another chuckle out of the man across from him.

"Barkeeps are students of humanity, Harry," the man said with an amused air. "We hear it all. Wizards come in, drink like the rest, talk like the rest. You're hardly the first person I've met with his eye on a girl and not a clue what to do about it."

Brian's gaze sharpened, "Though I don't tend to look fondly on those chasing after my Alex. Now, why don't you tell me about why she had such a turnabout in mood a few days ago, after seeing you?"

Heart jumping up into his throat, Harry recanted the meeting that day, and an abbreviated – he had the impression Brian knew it was so – account of why he fled Alex's innocent invitation to share a meal. He even went into the chat with Deedee, which seemed to cause the man to go very, very still.

"So," Regarding him levelly over a cup of Greek coffee he'd acquired from one of his waiters, Brian looked him over, face neutral. "You came to apologize and make amends."

"That's the way of it," Harry agreed, feeling a weight lift from his chest to finally have the air clear between them. It was curious that he'd be so unsettled by the man, he thought, yet he was Alex's guardian and though he himself had little positive experience with such, he could have some significant influence on the girl. Besides, he was likable enough once you got under the prickly surface. "I didn't know she'd be so upset, but really it's been eating at me for days. I wanted to make it right somehow."

Brian snorted, setting his coffee down. "Girls you'll find Harry, are as temperamental as the weather. Moods shift at whim, and when they find something that takes their fancy, and it's denied them or undone in front of them, you can bet that mood will shift. We," tapping his chest to indicate the gender itself, "hide those things. We're not strong enough to wear our hearts so openly."

Considering that an interesting view on things, Harry had to agree at least partially. "I think both genders do it, really," he argued. "I mean, we tend to show our anger and strong views more readily, but keep the small things hidden away. I guess... women do the opposite. They let the small things out, but keep the big things locked away."

"Not bad. Not bad..." Brian grinned at him across the table. "There's hope for you. Now that we've established your head isn't full of porridge, lets talk business.

"What precisely are your intentions with my daughter?" The somewhat comfortable smile fell off Harry's face.

(∞)

"_If you're going to do something tonight that you'll be sorry for tomorrow morning, sleep late."_

_~Henry Youngman_

(∞)

"Just remember. It's Saturday, she's not going to have all night to sit and chat, alright? I'd tell her to take the night off or something but she's too sharp and would get suspicious, and as much as I like you kid, I like her more."

Harry nodded, his nerves on edge as he took Brian's offered hand, "Thanks, sir."

The barkeep rolled his eyes, "None of that. It's just Brian."

Grinning, Harry pulled the door to the Underworld open, leaving Brian and his ever-present cup of coffee up in the failing sunlight. He didn't really understand why the man was actually helping him... do whatever it was he was planning. Harry grimaced, realizing he still didn't have a solid idea what to do once he was in front of Alex again. He just knew he'd try to clear the slate and start over if she'd let him. This time he would do it right.

"Stars above, why do you keep showing up?"

Harry blinked, pulling his attention sharply forward and directly into the line of fire of Alex's glare. "Oh. Um-"

The girl rolled slate eyes at him, "Eloquent as ever. So, what are you here for today?" Her lips quirked as is she had more to say – Harry assumed she could probably come up with quite a lot more, but her job was likely limiting her mightily.

Blowing out a tense breath, Harry met her eyes, "I came to say I was sorry."

Alex's mouth opened and then shut with a snap. Blinking rapidly for a moment she looked at him fully, pulling her glare from the menu she'd been savaging with a pen. "What?"

"I came to say I was sorry, for the other day. I really would have liked some company – your company – but... well I'm pretty much horrible with people," shaking his head, he took a breath, feeling a smile trying to work it's way onto his face at Alex's bemused expression. "I was wondering..." he trailed off, tilting his head slightly.

Shaking herself, Alex's face only half clouded with her usual detachment. "Wondering?"

"Could we start over?"

Despite herself, the corner of Alex's lip twitched. "I'm not sure what there is to start over. I don't even know your name."

He offered her his hand, a smile escaping and laying claim to his face. "Harry."

Alex laughed quietly, hand rising to cover her own smile. Taking his hand she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Alex. So, did you want to sit down?"

"Sure, though I have to warn you, it's mostly a ploy to talk with you," he quipped, to be rewarded with her stumbling and glaring half-heartedly over her shoulder at him.

"Don't push it," Alex warned, but the smile remained in her eyes. The booth he'd had before was taken tonight, but there was one nearby that was nearly as nice that she offered. "Alright, I'm actually on the other side of the room for my shift... but I'll be by. If someone else comes by, just tell them you're mine tonight." Harry raised a brow, but failed to keep his blush down, as the girl replayed what she just said and covered her face with a menu. "Oh stars, just kill me now," she muttered, fleeing. Over her shoulder she shot him a quick, "I'll be back."

Once she was out of sight, Harry collapsed down onto the table, his forehead striking it with a solid 'thump'. "Oh Merlin that was hard," he muttered, relieved now that she'd caught him off guard, as he knew that the longer he had to think about what to say the worse he would have handled things. Catching his breath, he looked up and actually took in the crowd that night, having spared it hardly a glance as he followed Alex in earlier.

Where on Tuesday the room seemed full, tonight it was clear that the numbers he'd seen were more the base patronage, than any venue crowd. Being a Saturday, he was lucky to get a seat, much less one in a booth. The crowd looked local, with their clothes being less the stuffy straight lines and pressed corners of Westminster, and more the faded denims and bright colors of Camden. He was beginning to understand the music scene and how the local crowd behaved, and though he'd missed the posters and notes for tonight's show, he could tell that with people gathering as early as this, it would be a good set.

"Good crowd tonight," Alex broke into his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the booth. She was in a different shirt, the uniform polo discarded in preference to a tight v-neck. "But then, this is a major-label band show."

Harry pulled his eyes up hard and blinked at the smiling night-sky gaze Alex was offering him. "Who's playing," he managed to ask, before taking a deep drink of water to the sound of her chuckling.

"Some locals that made it big recently. Be glad you missed last night," wrinkling her nose, Alex sipped at her own drink, something Harry had to assume was a mixed alcohol type. "Fridays are oldies night. Usually ask for that day off."

Grinning, Harry just shook his head, "I'd have no idea either way. To be honest, I just got into music recently."

Harry stared at Alex, who seemed to have lost the ability to blink for a few moments, the straw she'd been nursing in her drink falling from slack lips. "Ok, let me get this straight. You're new to playing-"

"Listening," Harry corrected.

She blew out a breath, shaking her head slowly. "Oh wow. Did you like... I don't even know. How did you pull that off?"

Not really willing to go too deeply into his home life yet, Harry shrugged, taking up his water again. "Just didn't have the opportunity or money. I plan on making up for lost time though."

"You've got a lot of catching up to do," Alex replied, shaking her head slowly. "Well, tonight may be a little strange for you. Saturday is Indy night, we'll be playing or hosting some pretty obscure stuff."

Harry took a chance, recalling the first night he'd met the girl, "What kind of music is it you play, then?"

"I'd..." blushing, she looked away, picking up her drink to occupy herself a moment. "The stuff Ken and I play would be pretty experimental. I mean we don't even have a full band, much less any kind of influence or roots."

"So you just work with what you want?"

Nodding, Alex turned back to him, an inscrutable expression across her features, her blush causing the scar across her cheeks to flare red. "What did you think of the set on Tuesday?"

He didn't bother trying to dim the smile that creeped up on him, "I loved it. I'd never heard anything that catchy before."

It was like someone had flipped a switch, as Alex smiled. The moment passed, as she ducked her head and looked away. "I have to get back in a moment. I took an early break..."

Though he wasn't happy that she'd be going, Harry nodded, offering her a lopsided grin. "Don't let me keep you, though I'm tempted."

Laughing, she shook her head and scooted the drink she'd only barely touched to him. "This was what I was going to bring you the other day. Just don't tell the boss – we'd get in trouble for serving minors."

"Quite an upgrade from ice water, and here I was thinking of a soda... And regarding minors, you're not one?"

She wrinkled her nose and kicked him lightly under the table, "I grew up in a bar. I was having daiquiris when other little girls were playing with those silly hot-bulb ovens."

"Those made the best cupcakes."

"You are such a geek," she screeched, laughing. "Oh my stars, you're so weird." Standing up beside the table, she looked around the packed room and he could see the traces of her 'waitress face' creeping in around the edges of her eyes. "If you're still around after the set-"

"I'll be here."

Alex spared him a last genuine smile, before he mask slipped back on fully. "I'll be by in a minute, if you want some food."

Harry felt something fleeting grab at his chest. "Hey, Alex?"

Turning as she's started on her way back toward the kitchens, the girl raised a dark brow, her smoky eyes picking him out easy in the dim room. "Yeah Harry?"

"Thanks. For giving me a chance."

Her lips quirked, the mask cracking. "Wait to thank me till you hear the song I wrote Tuesday."

There was a count of three till Harry connected the dots between what Brian had said earlier, and what Alex just said in walking away. "Oh bloody hell," he muttered into his hands, wondering again if he knew what he was doing. This time he figured the answer was as resounding "No".

He'd gotten something simple to eat, but stayed away from the soup for the time being. Alex had little time to come by and talk, so Harry by necessity of space ended up with three other people near his age, all chattering and comparing notes about the band that was playing later. Harry learned quite a lot about the group, called Mercury Burning, before the set started.

When the group came out, he was able to beg off conversation, watching intently as each person took up and tuned their instruments. As Alex insinuated, a full band had a lot more going on stage-wise than the simple setup she and Ken had. Though he had collected a few modest albums since the start of the vacation, this was the first time, at least since Yule Ball in his fourth year, that he'd been so close to performing band. Despite that reference, this was different in so many ways – for one, the instruments were modern, and not powered or bolstered at all by magic. Secondly, he didn't have the gravity of the Tri-Wizard bearing down on him, and the threat of ballroom dancing looming overhead.

Mercury Burning proved his companions right, being a good live band and having a sound that filled the dance floor easily. He was temped to go out as well, one of the girls having asked if he danced, but didn't want to be absent in case Alex had a moment to spare him.

Besides, he worried that if were caught up in the press with the violence that some were dancing with, he'd leave in pieces rather than in peace. Still, he was sorely tempted, the warm core of liquid confidence that the drink settled in his stomach calling out for him to show that he was more than just a fast pair of hands on a broom and a lightning scar.

He had nearly reconsidered and taken the girl, Serena, up on her offer when Alex came into view, looking harried but energetic. Calling out and waving, he made room beside him in the booth, and Alex gladly took the offered space. Grinning madly, Harry didn't try to hide his excitement, "This is great, I've never been to something like this before."

"Glad you're enjoying yourself," Alex replied, leaning back against the booth's padded wall but smiling, giving her words a warm cast. "It's always fun, your first concert. What do you think about the band?"

Harry considered that a moment, biting his lip and taking a sip from the now quite-melted drink she'd gotten him some time ago. "I like the music more than their lyrics. The lead guitar is amazing, but I can't really place how to describe-"

"Syrupy. Think and heavy."

"Yes!" Harry gestured out and grinned, "That's it in a nutshell. I really adore that style, it just blends to well with the bass and leaves the lyricist so much 'room' to work with, without crowding them."

Alex tilted her head, eyeing him a moment before cracking a grin, "You've got a good ear. That's not something I'd expect a novice Indy music fan to really pick up on so fast."

Shrugging, Harry waved as Serena excused herself with an unheard grumble, "Maybe it's just that I've not got a lot of preconceptions cluttering up my head. I'm new to this in a lot of ways, so I'm a pretty blank canvas."

"Ah, to have virgin ears again," Alex chirped, getting her swatted on the arm with a menu. The two devolved to laughing and chatting excitedly about music, comparing opinions, and sometimes arguing points about the band's material or style.

Their light conversation was halted, as Brian strode up and stopped with a frown by the booth. "Alex, there's a problem."

The two teens blinked up a the man, both paling for different reasons. "Alright, I'll get back to the kitchens-"

"That's not the problem," Brian said, cutting her off and glaring out at the stage, where the band was seemingly between sets. "Gregor is calling it a night. His voice is suffering from the tour and he's worried that he'll strain something for the next leg." Rolling his eyes at the band, the lead man openly looking guiltily at the barkeep, Brian turned to Alex, lips pursed. "Lightweights. They're going to be leaving the floor empty for an hour."

Harry turned to glance at the girl beside him, seeing a look of abject horror bloom on her features. "No way. I can't – I've got nothing to follow them with! They're a major label, Brian!" Harry was taken slightly aback by how strongly she was arguing, having been rather intimidated by the same man she was practically yelling at not hours earlier.

Brian shook his head and for the briefest moments crooked a glance Harry's way. "I can get one of the DJ's in. But this is a live music night. I think you'd do fine, and you know this is a local venue. These people know you, and Gregor be damned, they like you."

"Hey," Harry's voice pulled Alex's attention to him, her night-blue eyes wide in her worry. "The place is only a little more packed than Tuesday."

"It's not the number of people," she cried, and Harry tried not to let his eyes follow Brian as he backed away, a canny grin on his face. "They're professionals. There's a... protocol to these things! You don't follow a strong act with a weaker one."

Narrowing his eyes, Harry regarded the girl levelly for a few moments, letting his silence tell on her. "I think you're strong enough."

She offered him a tremulous smile, "That's nice of you, Harry. But-"

"What about the new song," Harry interrupted, and Alex's mouth worked a moment, her eyes clouding with some unsaid emotion. "You could try it out. They've never heard it, right?" When she shook her head slightly, the frill of her bangs hiding her eyes, he forged on, "Well, what better night? You've got people who were up for a pro show, and I can only guess this kind of thing doesn't happen often?"

Alex was breathing shallowly, staring ahead and not seeing the booth as she answered, "No, almost never. Oh, bands flake all the time. But Brian usually has a second stage, one of the side areas over to the left? One of those, set up for a second act. Our second canceled..."

"And there's no one else, right?"

She winced, but nodded, taking a deep breath. "Oh stars, I'm not ready for this."

With a half smile, Harry shook his head and recalling his own life, realized some things weren't so personal. "Sometimes, the best chances you get are the ones you're least ready for. You just have to reach out and take the opportunity you're given."

"Alright Confucius, can the philosophy," she replied, a hint of her usual personality peeking around her panic. Looking out at the floor as the house DJ, a good guy but no more up to the task than she, announced that Mercury's set was over, but to hang on for the last hour. "I'll do it, but on one condition," though she was facing out across the floor, Harry could make out the waver in her tone, and also the hint of something that made him wary.

He was just opening his mouth to ask her what, when she turned and pinned him with a glare. "I'll play the set, and the song. But," glare softening, then crumbling all together, she bit her lip and sighed, a flush causing her scar to show lurid against her skin. "Promise me you'll be here after. Come around back of the stage, take the stairwell – ignore the fire door. The alarm's never on."

Harry watched her, feeling his nerve fleeing him but snatching at it's tail frantically, "Ah, sure. Stairwell after."

"Promise me," she nearly whispered, eyes hidden in the fringe of her short hair.

"I promise," Harry offered, swallowing nervously.

Alex nodded once, then jumped up and fled the booth, cutting behind the stage and disappearing from view like a ghost, nothing but an image of pale skin, dark hair and eyes. Not sure if he'd imagined the conversation or not, Harry sat and dully watched the people on the dance floor and milling about their tables grow restless and listless as the silence drew on. He nearly jumped when the house DJ again took up his mic, and announced that there was some live music due in five minutes.

People seemed to relax, and Harry was surprised at how easily they were appeased. In a way it didn't make sense – these people had paid money to see Mercury Burning, but here they were willing to take something else in trade.

"Ah, the fickle crowd," Brian's voice snapped him back to the present, and Harry blinked owlishly up at the man. "Thinking deep thoughts on the flighty nature of the audience?"

"Something like that," Harry commiserated.

Brian slid into the booth across from him, sweeping the area with his eyes before turning that piercing glare on him. It dimmed, as a smile crooked the bearded man's face, "Thanks for talking her into the set. She'd have done it for me, but then been insufferable for weeks."

"Glad to be of service," he groused, to which Brian boomed a laugh that startled nearby patrons like birds, and sent them fleeing. Shaking his head, Harry regarded the man who was Alex's guardian, boss, and his own secret conspirer. "Is she ready for this?"

A waiter brought the barkeep a drink, Harry assuming it was another of his pungent coffees. Brian drank half the beverage in a gulp before considering the young man's question. "No. I don't think she is."

Incredulous, Harry stared at the man. "Why did you set her up-"

"Because, sometimes you need conflict to understand your limitations, and what you need to overcome them," the barkeep said with finality, and Harry sat back hard at Brian's tone. There was no illusion of the cheerful man he'd come to understand was underneath the cool shell now, only steel-hard experience. "She's a girl with a lot of dreams. I don't know... dreams. It's outside my realm. This I know. She needs this test so she can gain clarity, of herself, and her goals.

"In a way, it's the same with you," the man continued, surprising Harry. "She needs to see there's a world outside this pub, and this club and it's stage. She's stagnating here, living in a glass-walled house we've made for her." Amber eyes bore down on him, and seemed to press the air from Harry's lungs. "Alex needs more than this, which is why I put aside my usual response to your plans."

"Usual response?" The raven-haired youth managed to whisper, still pressed down by the other man's sheer presence.

Brian snorted, then turned away and the overwhelming sense of threat and danger evaporated. "Usually I'd drag you out behind the pub and beat you until the idea was leaking out of your ears."

"Oh," Harry squeaked, pulling himself back up in the booth, having slid down on the bench at some point. "But... why me?"

There was a shadow of Brian's previous humor, in his smile, "Because you may be strong enough for her, and her for you. She's not a wizard, she has no special powers or vast, deep secrets of her own. In a way, she's probably the most normal young woman you'll ever meet. But she has powerful dreams... and an almost overpowering desire to live her own life." Meeting Harry's eyes, the man smiled, "In that way, the two of you match very well."

Mouth suddenly dry, Harry blinked as the man rose and took his coffee with him. "You can see better from this side. Tell her I expect her to be ready for second shift tomorrow." Speechless after the things Brian said, Harry woodenly changed sides of the booth, noting that his earlier companions were slowly making their way back to him. He also caught glimpses of Ken and Alex setting up their instruments on the darkened stage, his gut twisting in sympathy for the girl.

"I can't believe Mercury would just... bail like that," Serena griped, though she seemed only half-hearted in it. Harry murmured a wordless agreement but didn't join in the conversation as he had before, having eyes only for the shadows on the stage.

In time the lights came up and the entirety of the Underworld looked up to the sight of Ken behind his drums and Alex, her pale face and dark hair framing her glittering eyes and the line of her scar. The guitar was already slung around her shoulders as she reached up and adjusted the mic to her shorter stature, being shorter by some measure than the previous singer.

"Underworld, it's nice to see you on a weekend for once," she began, and there were some calls of recognition, the regulars knowing her well. Others went quiet, waiting to see what the odd duo would offer them in substitute for their expected entertainment.

Alex grinned, nervous but it was enough to ease some of her own tension. She shot a quick look his way, and the grin wavered, making Harry frown slightly. "Alright. The story of this song... well. Some days the littlest thing can break your heart, but it only takes a few words to put it back together," she informed the room, and Harry's heart stalled in his chest.

He swallowed, but recalled the promise she made him make, before agreeing to playing the song. "This is _Static_, enjoy." Ken began at her nod, a light, fast tapping against a cymbal, his other hand holding it to keep it's chime dull. A counter of the foot-driven bass drum every handful of notes was met shortly by Alex humming, lending tone without words in a rising tide to the beat.

She brought her guitar up to the tone, adding a deep thrum to the tide, before quietly adding her voice, a lilting, slow, soft ripple to the swell.

_When I called your number,  
All the lines to you were closed,  
This is just my luck I suppose,  
Just don't know why I bother,_

_Yesterday I took it so lightly,  
Funny that I'm not laughing now,  
Hey pretty, pretty, pretty, can I go home with you?  
Hey pretty, pretty dangerous, is it ok here too?_

The chorus washed out, the drums a loud tattoo with Alex's voice taking on it's full depth, her guitar growling and roaring out against her, as she worked the pedals and set her own voice as a counter by some trick Harry was yet ignorant of. The effect was immediate, as the full, heavy press of sound pushed out at the room, and people suddenly realized they could move. Before, the crowd was simply swaying, listening intently and following the beat with tapping feet, or nodding heads. Now they writhed, moved in time and danced, as the lights picked up the stronger beat Ken was setting.

Harry, though, was stock still. When the chorus ended, Alex's voice didn't fully retreat to the light murmur it had been, and there was the thread of bass accompanying it that threatened to erupt out again, on her whim.

_I saw a universe in the mirror,  
A fiction written about a kiss,  
With my eyes closed like this,  
I can see you so much clearer,_

_I promise, I won't do it nightly,  
Funny that it's so different now,  
Hey pretty, pretty, pretty, can I do this with you?  
Hey pretty, pretty devious, do you want me too?_

_White noise in my head tonight,  
A wall made of music and words,  
And it flies away like startled birds,  
I can't keep up this game, alright,_

_I know you'll take this lightly,  
Funny that I don't care now,  
Hey pretty, pretty, pretty, can I forget about you?  
Hey pretty, pretty disastrous, forget me too?_

_Hey pretty, pretty..._

The chorus went into repeats, and Harry swallowed hard, before stealing one of the drinks that the others brought with them, downing the burning wash in a single gulp, offering an apology to the owner who only laughed at his red face.

There was nearly a quarter hour left, and Alex moved to another song he didn't know, but after the crowd was calling for _Static_ again, and with a pained look to Ken, who shrugged, she acquiesced. Harry stood as the last few chords faded, seeing in the suddenly darkening stage the slight shadow of Alex fleeing the applause and calls for another song, heading behind the stage, where he too was due.

Through the press of people, some milling about as the house DJ played back some of the night's highlights, some making their way to exits, Harry pushed, intent despite the weight in his chest to follow through on his promise. He hadn't known he had hurt the girl so much... or did he? Did he know, on some level, and was that why he was so eaten up inside over things? Had he hurt her so, with such a simple thing?

Behind the stage, the darkness was deeper, but the lurid red exit sign lit it in a hellish light, and he stalked to that beacon. Pausing only a moment to give the warning sticker on the door a cursory glance, Harry shoved the fire-door open and made his way up the stairwell, it's outer wall a brick trellis overlooking Camden High Street and the lights there. Any other day he would have found the view breathtaking, but not tonight. There was just too much going on in his head.

Breaking free of the stairwell, he found himself atop the World's End itself, the night sky spread out above him, stars and the lights below shining up like a jealous galaxy in itself. There were signs that the roof was haunted often by someone, with fake turf down about it's surface, potted plants and chairs strewn about. Sitting on the edge of the roof across from the stairwell was Alex, looking out at the city and away from him, her profile a darker shade on the night.

He'd made it halfway across the roof, his feet whispering against the plastic turf when she started to speak, "I'm sorry. I didn't... well I thought. I don't know what I thought. Music... it's what you feel, when you feel it," she said in such a small voice that Harry nearly lost it in the sounds of the city. "I'm sorry."

Not knowing how to respond, either to the song or her, Harry just crossed the rooftop and sat an arm length away, looking out at the city as well. The night air calmed his mind, letting the maelstrom there settle into a less chaotic swirl. "I guess I understand. I just... I didn't know it was such a..." trailing off, Harry shook his head. "I'm not used to being a big deal to anyone," at least for my own sake, he added silently.

"How could you know? We just met, remember?"

Staring at the girl, traces of the anxiety from her music and the show clear in the glimmering tracks leading across her cheeks, Harry could only stare, shaking his head. "But-"

"Please," her voice faint, Alex closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I... can't let that song stay _you_. Do you understand? I have to let it go. I have to let that moment go, or it'll always be you, that's in that song." In a smaller voice, one that he could hear despite the sound of his heart hammering in his ears, she went on, "I don't want that. I really don't want that..."

Closing his eyes as well, Harry took a breath, listening. London murmured and screamed below him. It was easy to imagine it there, hearing the thrum and beat of other clubs, the sound of people, traffic – a world turning below them. Up above it all, they were like stars, distant and unreachable.

"It makes sense. That person is different from me, now." Alex turned her head, a question clear on her face. Harry saw it out of the corner of his eyes, but kept his gaze over London. "It does. Do you think a few days is long enough to see that you need to grow up? To see that there's more out there than you can see from your old point of view?"

Alex drew up a knee, wrapping her arms around it. "Yeah. Tonight... I was so scared. I've always wanted to play a real room. Not just the early week shows," when Harry made a questioning sound, she laughed. "You wouldn't really get it yet. People like music. They need it, but it's not always quality they need. That's where I come in. Background noise."

"I don't think you're anything like that."

She smiled, reaching up to tuck the loose hair out of her face, letting him see it. "It's nice of you to think so. Maybe we're changing into more. I hope so, but I'm afraid of it."

"If it's what you want, why be afraid," Harry asked, turning so he was facing her on the raised lip of the roof.

"Growing up," she whispered softly. "Ken isn't interested in being in a real band. We don't have a full setup, or even a name. I'm pushing it with some tricks I've picked up growing up around the stage." Alex's eyes met his for just a moment. "For me, growing up means it all ends, I guess."

"But you want to keep playing," he said, reading her worry. "And you want it to be your music, not someone else's."

Alex nodded, and he could see the tremble in her arms where they crossed around her knee. "My music will eat me alive. I'm scared, but it's all I can do. I can't just stop, can't make it anything else. It's what I am, and I'm on the edge of something, and don't know what to do."

Harry spared her a glance, seeing her rocking slightly where she sat. Some advice he'd recently come to grips with himself came to mind, "Then, all you can do, is what you must. Change and adapt, and hold on as tight as you can."

Her lips quirked, and she looked to him with a ghost of a smile. "Yeah."

Silence stretched out between them, but it didn't feel silent. There were words, silent and heavy sitting in the air between them. Each one had the power to end the world, or remake it into something unknowable. Harry moved to her side, breath catching in his throat and arm moving hesitantly around the slight girl there, who could move an entire room with just a few words, but whom he seemed to have broken with so few only days ago.

They sat like that for a handful of moments, a pair of stars looking down at London as it breathed and surged below. He didn't say anything to break that moment, but she leaned against him suddenly, hard enough to knock them both off the crenelation and back onto the fake turf. Harry's view of the stars was momentarily blocked by a pair of glittering sky-dark eyes.

"Hey. My name's Alex." Harry opened his mouth to answer, but it was suddenly captured in a pair of smooth, warm lips. Arms moving on instinct, he found her more than happy to lean against him, where he lay as well. Alex pressed down against his mouth, her teeth catching his lip for a moment before she drew back. "Nice to meet you."

Swallowing, his heart hammering against him loud enough that he was sure she could hear, Harry nodded, "Very nice." She swatted him on the arm, and the two laughed, but made no move to rise. "So where do you go from here?" He asked, as she reached up, stealing away his glasses and throwing the world other than her into a blurry fog.

Alex rested her slight weight on her elbows, leaning forward to that her breath sent delicate fingers across his face, "I was thinking about forward."

"Forward," Harry repeated, and bit his lip as the girl resting against him shifted toward him more. "I think I like forward."

A slow smile crept across her lips, as she shifted up Harry's prone form again at the sound of the word. "I very much like..." she trailed off, as Harry reached behind her, his long fingers slipping across the nape of her neck and pulling gently down, so that their lips met again. Her fingers went slack, the thin frames in them falling to the false grass as she relaxed against him.

They broke the kiss unenthusiastically, green eyes meeting dark blue as the two teens tried to get their breathing and pulses under control. Harry couldn't keep the smile off his face, and it was clear Alex was having similar issues with stifling her laughter. Wrinkling her nose, she slipped to his side and sighed, draping an arm across his chest. "Do you like to stargaze?"

He raised a brow at the randomness of the question, feeling the lack of her presence against him acutely in the chill night. "I take some astronomy classes," he replied, turning so he could look down where she rested, against his shoulder.

"I was thinking about a name." Leaning up toward him, her face came back into focus, and Harry could feel the warmth of her breath against his face again. "For my band."

Harry let the confusion he felt color his expression. "But I thought Ken wasn't up for it becoming something more?"

Alex shook her head slowly, the loose strands of her hair brushing his chin. "He's not. I'll just have to keep going," her lips curved into a smirk. "Forward."

Laughter getting the best of him, Harry slid from under the girl, but didn't pull away. Alex rested against his shoulder, where he propped himself up with his arms. "So what name were you thinking of?"

"Ganymede."

(∞)

A/N: A new take on the old bag of Indy!Harry. Indy music, this time. Aren't I clever? If you're trying to find those songs on the net – give up. I wrote them.

I'm a musician, and felt like putting more music in a story, but abhor songfics. I've used one song in a writing piece already – bit more flowery, and more tuned for folk music than modern – and wanted to do so again. To put the sound that is Ganymede into perspective, lets do a mix-and-match of known musical references.

Ken's heavy drumming at its lightest is akin to Muse's Dominic Howard, at its roughest, the White Stripe's Meg White. The bottom line, is that rather than just setting a beat, the drums represent an large part of the sound, though they do not dominate it. Confused? My apologies.

Alex's guitar work is less easy to label. I have her doing frankly improbable things with pedals (unless you're a DIY garage player, which means you've tried with varying success), which I'll spoil a bit and talk about here, as it's not critical to anything in ch.2. With her limited materials and options, Alex has rigged up a pedalboard to run her rackmount effects cabinet. Not too outlandish, unless you get into technicals. That said, she doesn't use a lot. She does use a tool called an EBow, which you may have heard of. For recent reference I'm drawing a blank, but there was some use from the Smashing Pumpkins I recall. The thing is used like a pick, using a mag-field to sustain a tone on a sting, like a violin's bow. Hence, the name. The rest of her tricks stick to pitch-shifting and a little fuzzing distortion. Alex likes simple, but has her own sound.

As for her lyrics, she's still exploring styles. _Static_ would be reminiscent of late Ladytron and Emilie Simon, while _Churchmouse_ (the first song), would have a vocal style more reminiscent of Jack White, Namie Amuro, Snow Patrol, or other strong singers where the voice is used as much as an instrument rather than just a means to relay lyric.

Now on to the romance.

Too fast? Remember your teenage romances. I've had faster. Indy Harry? Who knows, really. This isn't a fic about the scene, or the music – they add, but hopefully do not subtract. It's a vehicle. The last segment of Ganymede Rising should show you where I'm going with this. Planned to be a two-part fic, maybe three.

Also, yes, those were members of Gaiman's Sandman family. Death, Destruction, and Mad Hettie, so far. We all eventually grow up, and sometimes we even get the privilege of raising a child. Namely, Alex.


End file.
